


Someone Who Knows

by CaptainTulip



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTulip/pseuds/CaptainTulip
Summary: Sometimes you just need someone who knows.





	Someone Who Knows

"Something wrong?"   
  
The man opposite Snape chews boredly, leaning back in his chair. The sun is shining in through the windows, slanting across his face, but Snape hasn't noticed. His hands are shaking as they try to keep the smooth paper and its straight words in their grasp, and his morning coffee is turning cold in his mouth.  
  
He swallows, the liquid bitter in his throat. "Harry Potter is dead," he mutters, and the sun doesn't flicker, and the flowers do not wilt. The table does not shake, and Snape's hands do not turn to dust. His guest raises an eyebrow, and takes a sip of his coffee.  
  
"Friend of yours?"   
  
Snape hesitates.  _Friend_. "No," he says, finally, and the man frowns.  
  
"Relation? Doesn't sound like it, with a name like yours."  
  
Snape forces his mouth the quirk, as if he finds the other man amusing, and shakes his head. "You've never heard of Harry Potter?" he asks, because Harry Potter once held the fate of the world in his young hands.  
  
But the man shakes his head. "No. Why, was he famous?"  
  
Snape twitches. "In a manner of speaking."  
  
The other man snorts. "I think I see," he says with a laugh. "Did you love him?" He pops a bit of bacon into his mouth, and Snape grimaces.  
  
"No," he says, placing the letter carefully in front of him. "Though I may have been alone in that respect."  
  
"Good looking bloke?"  
  
Dark hair. Bright eyes. Slim body. "It was thought so."  
  
The man nods slowly. "Pity."  
  
Snape sighs. "Yes."  
  
There is a silence, as the other man eats and Snape drums his fingers along the side of the table.  
  
"So, er, how'd he die?"  
  
_That_  is the question. "Drowned," Snape says, and he remembers the few hours spent on a wet wooden platform at Hogwarts' last Triwizard tournament, his heart pumping madly as the seconds ticked on and  _still_  Potter did not appear from the depths of the lake. "Odd," he says, more to himself, because as his mother had once said, as she shoved a terrified pre-pubescent Snape into the depths of the sea, " _Wizards never drown_!"  
  
"Heard drowning's supposed to be pleasant."  
  
Snape frowns, slightly. "Did you."  
  
"Well, not pleasant, but - fuck, what's with you?" The man shakes his head. "Thought you said you  _weren't_  in love with this Harry person. What, did he owe you money or something?"  
  
_Why_ , indeed. Why did Snape care? He shakes his head, and sighs deeply. "Not that I'm aware of." Snape scratches at the table with a long, yellowed fingernail. "You've truly never heard of this man."  
  
"Should I have? What, was he a writer or a painter, or something? A musical genius?  _Touched_  you, did he? Struck a chord inside you?"  
  
The thought of Harry Potter sitting at a piano makes Snape smirk, slightly. It fades as he catches the look on the other man's face. "No. Merely an average person with average qualities. I hated him, in fact."  
  
The man rolls his eyes. "And he's dead."  
  
Snape nods.  
  
"Drowned."  
  
Snape nods again.  
  
"Well, as insensitive as it may sound, I don't really care. Didn't know him, obviously won't know him, and I'm late for work. I'll be by after, ok?"  
  
Snape nods, a third time. "There is no need for sympathy. You didn't know him, it's true. Enjoy your work."  
  
The man makes a face, and slinging his jacket over his shoulders, he leaves the small house.  
  
Snape sighs softly to himself. He didn't think he'd live to see Harry Potter die.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
_Tap tap tap_. Snape knocks softly on the door.  
  
"Yes?" a voice questions hoarsely from within, and Snape waits. He's not going to speak through a  _door_  to somebody. His eyes travel along the plants hanging from the ceiling of the little verandah, and across the chipped paint of the boards. He clears his throat, trying not to wonder what he's doing here, and suddenly the voice croaks, "Go  _away_!"  
  
Snape's eye twitches in annoyance. "Open the bloody  _door_ , Lupin."  
  
There is a pause, and then a loud  _thump_. A scuffle, a few more bumps, the sound of a lock being unlatched, and Lupin's face appears. "Severus," he breathes, and Snape raises an eyebrow, indicating his dissatisfaction. "Oh, I'm, er..."  
  
"Grieving? Clearly."  
  
Lupin sighs and picks at his jersey, which Snape notices is covered in hair and coffee stains. "So you've heard," he says softly.  
  
Snape rolls his eyes. "Rather difficult to miss."  
  
Lupin nods.  
  
"I must say, getting yourself into your current state is somewhat melodramatic, don't you think? You've lost people before, Lupin. I should think you'd have gotten used to it by now." Snape knows he didn't come there to insult Lupin, but he always seems to forget his reasons when faced with Lupin's bright eyes.  
  
"I've had people stolen before, yes. But Harry...Harry slipped through my fingers."  
  
Snape raises his other eyebrow.  
  
"I shouldn't be outliving everyone, Severus," Lupin continues, his eyes falling to somewhere near Snape's feet. "I was supposed to be the  _first_  to die."  
  
"You haven't outlived me yet," Snape says grimly, folding his arms in front of him.  
  
Lupin looks up. "No," he murmurs in accord. "Perhaps we can make it a competition," he says, bitterly.  
  
Snape snorts. "I'll win."  
  
Lupin stares at him a moment, before his lips stretch into a thin smile. "Yes, I suspect you might. Er," Lupin glances behind Snape to an empty street. "Did you, er, want to come in?"  
  
A beat. "Yes, alright," Snape says shortly and steps past Lupin, who stares at him bemusedly for a moment before closing the door.  
  
"I'm not really fit to entertain at the moment," Lupin says as Snape walks steadily to the kitchen.  
  
"Are you ever?"  
  
"Well, some times are better than others." He sounds vaguely indignant, which makes Snape smile. The smile slips off his face when all he can find in the shabby cupboard is an old box of green tea.  
  
"What on Earth is this, Lupin? What are you?"  
  
Lupin runs a hand through his greying hair. "The proper tea is in the bedroom."  
  
Snape likes the way he says " _proper_  tea", but doesn't show it. "What's it doing in there?"  
  
"Well," Lupin says with a sigh, "I went through a period of not getting out of bed." He at least manages to look vaguely sheepish, for which Snape is glad. "I woke up to drink tea and cry, and slept the rest of the time."  
  
Snape looks him up and down. "How pathetic."  
  
Lupin laughs nervously. "Yes, rather."  
  
The two stare at each other for a long moment before Snape rolls his eyes. "Well, it's not going to come through here on its own."  
  
"Oh yes. Right.  _Accio_  English Breakfast." The teabags come flying down the hall into Lupin's hand and Snape's lip quirks, slightly. "What?" Lupin demands.   
  
"Accio English Breakfast?"  
  
"What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Nothing."  _Accio English Breakfast_. Snape can't wipe the quirk off his face, but he hasn't the faintest idea why.  
  
"Milk?" Lupin asks, and Snape pretends not to be impressed at his wordless wandless control of magic, boiling the jug and getting out the cups, milk and sugar without so much as a glance.  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"Sugar?"  
  
"Not unless you've poisoned the milk."  
  
Lupin glances at the bottle. "It might be a bit off."  
  
Snape grimaces. "I'll live."  
  
Lupin twists his finger and the tea folds in and out of itself, carefully and smoothly. He picks up the cup and hands it to Snape.  
  
"Ta," Snape says dryly, and for a moment everything is silent. Lupin clears his throat and leans into his tea, blowing on it carefully before taking a large slurp. Snape's upper lip curls. "Don't slurp."  
  
Lupin keeps his eyes locked with Snape's as he brings the cup to his mouth and slurps loudly again. Snape fights to urge to grind his teeth together, and pointedly takes a silent sip.  
  
"So. Severus. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"  
  
Snape's eyes trace the scars across Lupin's face for a moment, letting the silence build up. "I--" Snape pauses for a moment, weighing his words. "There are few else alive who knew him willing to speak to me."  
  
Lupin's face seems to fall in on itself, the lines sinking deeper than ever before. "Oh," he mutters eventually. "Come for a shoulder to cry on?"  
  
"Not as such, no."   
  
Lupin heaves a great, self-pitying sigh and shuffles over to the rickety table in the middle of the kitchen. He seats himself awkwardly on one of the wooden chairs and places his cup down in front of him. "Sit, if you like," he murmurs.  
  
"I prefer to stand."  
  
Lupin nods. "Right."  
  
The silence stretches on in the small kitchen and without even a clock to pass away the seconds, the room feels thick with something Snape doesn't want to identify. He clears his throat, and stares at Lupin as piercingly as he can manage. "Wizards don't drown, Lupin," he says in a low voice.  
  
Lupin scratches at the table, absently. "Harry was never a very confident swimmer--"  
  
"It  _wasn't_  an accident."  
  
Silence. Almost a ringing in Snape's ears.  
  
"Was it." It's not a question.  
  
Lupin buries his head in his hands and it takes a moment for Snape to realise that the little shudders racking his bony frame are muffled sobs. Snape watches him impassively, with a brief sense of annoyance as the werewolf tears fall wasted onto the table. Once upon a time he would have paid hundreds for the smallest of vials of the substance.  
  
"Do you blame yourself, Lupin?" he asks softly, and a particularly fierce shudder goes through the other man. It's almost too easy, and once upon a time Snape would have reveled in the chance to pick and pick and pick until there was nothing left.  
  
There seems little pleasure in that now.  
  
Snape rolls his eyes. "People who burn that brightly--" he stops himself. He is in danger of sounding pretentious. "Potter was always going to burn out, Lupin." Better. "Like his parents, like his Godfather, whereas people like you and myself continue glowing dimly for the rest of our miserable lives."  
  
Lupin shudders. "But this is  _Harry_ ," he says into his wet sleeve. "So innocent, so sweet and--"  
  
"What are you  _talking_  about, Lupin? Potter was never innocent. I'm convinced the damn boy was  _born_  corrupted." Snape walks over to the sink and places his teacup on the bench. "Do you think Potter would be pleased to see you wallowing? See you pitying yourself like this? You're pathetic, Lupin, you always have been and you always will be--"  
  
"What, I should just top myself like Harry did, should I?" Lupin snaps, springing out of his chair.  
  
Snape's mouth freezes, hanging open. The two stare at each other, amazed Lupin had the gall to say such a thing. Snape can't move, for all the training he's had at perfecting nonchalance over the years, and Lupin stands tense and bleary eyed before him.   
  
A fly buzzes noisily around the kitchen window, breaking the icy silence. Snape twitches and it falls to floor, dead before it hits the ground. He doesn't consider that it mightn't have been the most tactful thing to do in the situation until Lupin turns his head and stares at its lifeless form with hollow eyes.  
  
Snape swallows.  
  
"There's not much to life at the moment, Severus."  
  
A long pause.   
  
"Is there ever."  
  
A tragic sort of question, entirely fitting to the state of their lives at the present time. Snape narrows his eyes slightly, lest Lupin forget he wasn't the only one who'd had every single lover and friend taken away from them during the course of their harsh and unyielding life.  
  
Lupin takes his a breath and opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. It makes an odd wet sound in the kitchen, as the light of morning streams through the windows, and Snape scowls. Lupin opens his mouth and snaps it shut  _again_ , and Snape can feel the lines on his face deepen.  
  
"What?" he growls.  
  
Lupin stares at Snape a while, cocking his head to one side. His tears have turned into puffiness, and he wipes the final memory of them away with a shaky hand.  
  
"There was once," he says softly.  
  
Something about the look in Lupin's eyes leaves Snape's heart to miss a beat.   
  
_This is what you're here for_.  
  
He refuses to believe it. He tries to set his scowl as deep as he can, curling his lip and sneering, furrowing his brow for all it's worth - but something about it isn't working like it should. Lupin still has that same ridiculously pathetic look on his face, and Snape's stomach has started to ripple. He doesn't want to look Lupin in the eyes but nowhere else on him is better - the greys streaking his golden hair, the scratchy familiarity of a woolen jersey, the scarred but work-soft hands, the crotch of his trousers...  
  
He can hear Lupin's breathing from across the room. He can smell him, too; a pungent aroma of musk and tea and sheepskin rug. He can feel the expression on his face slipping into one of need and vulnerability and he masks it as fast as he can. He clears his throat.  
  
"I--"  
  
"Please." Lupin's voice is hoarse.  
  
"Lupin," Snape says sharply.  
  
"I've thought of you. Often. Every day."  
  
The truth and openness makes Snape cringe and he turns his head away.  
  
"I feel -- I feel like I'm dying. Holed up in here -- it's like a coffin. I'm choking, and there's just--"  
  
"For Merlin's  _sake_ , Lupin,  _control_  yourself."  
  
Lupin takes a breath and a step closer, and Snape can almost feel the heat radiating off his body. He balls his fists and stands his ground, looking back at him. Lupin's teary eyes flicker across his face -- down the length of his nose, to his lips.  
  
Snape does his best to let them thin. He doesn't know if he'll be able to cope if Lupin decides to kiss him.  
  
"You've never thought of me?"  
  
Snape hesitates. "No." Save for every time he enters the slick tightness of his partner and imagines the too-smooth feel of scars beneath his fingertips. Every time he wallows in the cooling waters of a bath and wraps his hand around his prick, imagining a quirked and soft spoken mouth sliding down it. Every time he sees a couple holding hands, every time he sees a dirty magazine, every time he reads a romance novel. Every time he sees a woolen jersey, every time he sees a frayed pair of trousers. Every time he breathes. "I have better things to do with my time."  
  
Lupin clears his throat. "Are you -- with someone else, then?"  
  
Snape frowns. "In a manner of speaking."  
  
It's almost gratifying to see what little colour there was left in Lupin's face drain out. "Well."  
  
Snape drums his fingers along the bench. "It's -- merely sex." He curses himself inwardly --  _it's merely sex_?! - and shakes his head.  
  
Lupin's eyes widen, and a thin grimace spreads across his lips. "Well," he says again.  
  
The silence becomes awkward.   
  
Snape sighs. "Look, as things go, I should think--"  
  
His sentence falls short as Lupin closes in on him and presses him bodily against the countertop, kissing him roughly with an indecent moan. Lupin's slick tongue makes quick work of Snape's shock-slackened lips and probes forcefully in as he presses his crotch against Snape's.  
  
"Tell me to stop," he breathes against Snape's lips.  
  
"Stop," Snape gasps, and Lupin leans in to claim Snape's lips with a hitched breath once more, running his strong hands down Snape's sides. Snape raises a hand and grabs Lupin by the hair, wrenching his head backwards.   
  
Lupin allows himself to be held back, shaking his head in Snape's grasp. "Do to me what you will, Severus. I'm yours."  
  
_I'm yours_.  
  
Snape lets out a harsh breath and leans down, hungrily beginning to explore Lupin's mouth. Unable to resist. Lupin's responses are so needy and desperate, so perfectly arousing they seem almost calculated -- Snape would suspect something if it weren't for the surprised delight that colours every one; the tense muscles that fear Snape's change of mind.  
  
" _Yes_ ," escapes from Lupin's mouth in Snape's, and Snape spins the two of them around, grinding his hardening cock into the bulge in Lupin's tatty trousers. "I don't want--"  
  
"No?" Snape begins an assault on Lupin's neck, sucking and licking almost viciously.  
  
"God -- n-no," Lupin forces out, "I want to --  _nnngh_  -- do this properly--"  
  
"There's nothing proper about this," Snape says into the soft skin of Lupin's neck, licking at a tender spot. A thrill goes through his veins as he feels Lupin's body shudder against his.  
  
Lupin grabs Snape's head and forces him back, staring at him with hungry eyes. "I want to see you naked," he says hoarsely.  
  
Snape frowns. "I'd prefer you didn't."  
  
"I -- what?"  
  
Snape continues frotting slowly against Lupin, but Lupin's body has stilled.  
  
"Severus, I've seen you before--"  
  
"I'm not exactly the most aesthetically pleasing--"  
  
"Well,  _I've_  never won any beauty pageants--"  
  
"I'd hardly like to get myself all worked up--"  
  
"-- _worked up_?"  
  
"--only to have you decide that you--"  
  
"--I can't believe someone like you would be so vain!"  
  
" _Someone like me_?!"  
  
"Do you honestly think," Lupin says, his voice deepening, "that I'm about to balk at the sight of your more than impressive erection sliding in and out of me as you--"  
  
"I hadn't known you to be so Goddamn  _crude_ \--"  
  
"Excuse me. I hadn't realised you were such a prude--"  
  
"I'm not a prude!" Snape hisses.  
  
"Then take off all your clothes," Lupin says impishly, pressing his whole body hard against Snape's, so that his every breath puffs hot onto Snape's bruised lips, "and fuck me."  
  
Snape's stomach twists in on itself, and he feels his rock-hard cock twitch as Lupin leans forward to suck on his tongue.  
  
"Where?" Snape says inelegantly around Lupin's mouth.  
  
Lupin licks his lips. "Bedroom."  
  
"Do you have--?"  
  
Lupin nods, kissing Snape leisurely.  
  
"I fear I've fallen into your trap," Snape murmurs.  
  
"You're the one who came to  _me_ ," Lupin says, and grabbing hold of Snape's bottom he stumbles backwards, dragging the two awkwardly down the hallway to the bedroom.  
  
"Whom I found in a state of  _abject despair_  which seems to have disappeared rather--"  
  
"Don't!" Lupin snaps, stopping suddenly in the doorway. He takes a breath. "Don't."  
  
Snape's eyes narrow. "If you think--"  
  
"I don't want to think," Lupin breathes, "about  _anything_."   
  
He stares at Snape a moment, and his breath comes thick between the two.  
  
"Should be easy be work for you," Snape mutters, and pushes Lupin back roughly onto the bed.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Snape thrusts in and out slowly, and Lupin winces as he gasps.  
  
"It's -- been a while," he says through gritted teeth.  
  
Snape groans hoarsely. "I can  _tell_."  
  
Lupin flexes his muscles around Snape and he feels a tremour run through his body.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Snape stiffens. "Merlin, Lupin, what the bloody--"  
  
"I -- I do. And I want you to know--"  
  
"Don't."  
  
"I--"  
  
" _Don't_."  
  
"Don't tell me what to do when you have your  _prick_  thrusting up my  _backside_!"  
  
"I'm n-not interested in your attempts to ruin--"  
  
"Ruin? I'm not ruining anything. I just want to -  _God_  - see the look on your face when you come, knowing that you know that I love you. Knowing you -- you love me too."  
  
Snape's breathing becomes shallower as his thrusts become deeper, the slick sound of flesh against flesh filling up the tiny room. Lupin grabs one of Snape's hands, buried in the sheets, and roughly forces it down to his hard cock.  
  
"It's --  _yes_  -- better like this."  
  
Snape grunts with exertion, every pore of his body breaking out in sweat.  
  
"Like w-what?" he says, groaning unabashedly into Lupin's neck.  
  
"With -- love," Lupin murmurs, his breath hitching. "Isn't it, S-severus?  _Isn't it_?"  
  
"God,  _yes_ , Remus,  _yes_." Snape's rigid control breaks, and he starts pumping his cock roughly in and out of Lupin's slick entrance.  
  
"Please, Severus,  _p-please_..."  
  
" _Yes_ ," Snape chants, " _yes, yes, yes, yes..._ "  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The room feels thick with something Snape doesn't want to identify.  
  
It's somewhat -- sickening.  
  
"You're  _sticking_  to me, Lupin." Snape looks out of the corner of his eyes and sees Lupin smiling stupidly. "Wipe that smirk off your face."  
  
Lupin's grin stretches wider.  
  
"So all your misery -- all your despair, all your grief, all your mourning -- was all because you needed a good buggering?"  
  
Lupin's smile softens, and he turns to Snape. "No." He tucks a lock of sweaty black hair behind Snape's head. "I needed  _you_."  
  
Snape winces in disgust. "Oh, Merlin," he says, sitting up. "Where the Christ is my shirt?"  
  
Lupin settles back. "Truly," he says sleepily. "We've known each other a long time, you and I. Blood, sweat and tears we've shared." Lupin chuckles. "Amongst other things."  
  
Snape rolls his eyes.  
  
"Sometimes -- sometimes you just need someone who  _knows_."  
  
"Go to sleep, Lupin."  
  
Lupin cracks open an eye. "Thank you. I think I will."   
  
And with that Lupin's husky voice disappears into a slow, steady breathing, and Snape stares down at his peaceful expression for a long time.  
  
_Sometimes you just need someone who knows_.  
  
"Idiot," Snape murmurs, and finally lies down next to him.  


  



End file.
